Requiem
by singsongsung
Summary: Lucas/Peyton. "Her heels against the gorgeously tiled floor sounded like a hammer hitting in the last nails on her marriage’s coffin." Sometimes you need to fall apart to truly come together. And sometimes you don't have the chance for either.
1. Truth

**Requiem**

_a song for something or someone that has ceased to exist_

**A/N:** Hey, it's me, the girl with a million stories. I wrote about 1000 words of **Crescendo **(a fourth of what the chapter needs to consist of), about the same numbers of words of **HYH**, and then my muse came up with this. I've never dived into a storyline with _quite_ so little planning before, but I'm excited about it.

**Background:** Haley, Nathan, Peyton, Lucas, and Brooke all achieved everything they wanted to – they're reached everything they ever wanted. They're all wealthy and moderately famous, enjoying the best that money can buy. Haley's topping charts with her music, Nathan's winning NBA games, Peyton owns her own label, Lucas has written four successful novels, one of which was just turned into a movie, and Brooke has Clothes over Bro's. Haley and Nathan are married and have Jamie; Brooke is dating casually. The rest, I think, can remain a mystery for now.

…_**for Truth**_

Peyton moved through the crowd in the Manhattan ballroom, waving sweetly to an elderly executive and throwing a wink at the bartender, who hadn't yet charged her for any of her drinks, though he'd undoubtedly be berated for that later on. He had yet to notice the sparkle of her wedding rings that the chandeliers in this place had no problem picking up.

After politely excusing herself as she moved through one last cluster of people, she reached her destination: her husband.

Unfortunately for Peyton, her husband happened to be talking to an old friend of theirs, so she had to plaster on a perfectly fake smile and say, "Haley, _hi_."

"Peyton, I thought I'd never find you!" Haley gushed in return, her eyes bright with the faintest hint of intoxication. "It's so good to see you, you look fantastic."

"So do you," Peyton said earnestly, gesturing to Haley's lengthy golden dress. "Doesn't she, honey?" she added to Lucas, squeezing his arm lightly.

"Yeah, Haley, you look beautiful."

"Stop," the musician said as colour rose into her cheeks. "I mean, Peyton, look at you, all femme fatale."

Peyton had to consciously prevent herself from smirking proudly. That was exactly what she'd been going for. "Please, I bet Nathan can't wait to get you out of that."

Haley's cheeks darkened even more and Lucas cleared his throat, adjusting his tie. "This is starting to get uncomfortable for me," he joked, his smile playful.

Peyton grinned over at Haley. "Well, Luke, lucky for you, I need to steal you away for just a minute." She reached out to touch her old friend's wrist. "We'll catch up more lately, okay? I really have missed you."

"Likewise," Haley said seriously, patting Peyton's hand with her free one. "I guess I should go find my husband…"

"Bow chicka wow wow…" Lucas said teasingly, bopping a little to his own off-key tune, and Haley's blush intensified further still as she glanced back at them. Peyton smiled indulgently and lazily batted at her husband's arm.

The moment Haley was out of both sight and earshot, she rounded on Lucas, scowling. "Don't embarrass her."

Lucas shook his head in disbelief. "Don't start fights over nothing," he countered. "That's why you're here, right? You came over here to fight?"

She stared deep into his eyes. "You are _unbelievable_," she hissed.

"_I'm_ unbelievable?" he whispered back, keeping his smile in place in case anyone glanced their way. He recoiled, frowning. "God, how much have you had to drink?"

Peyton rolled her eyes, murmuring, "Not enough, that's for sure."

Lucas' eyes softened as he placed his hand gently over her arm, his thumb stroking her smooth skin. "Peyt, I don't know what you want from me anymore."

"No shit," she grumbled bitterly. "God, I need another drink…"

"You're really going to do that?" he asked, testing her. "To your friends. To your kids?" he added with more meaning.

"Leave them out of this. They have _nothing_ to do with this," she insisted hotly.

"Are you kidding me, Peyton? They have _everything_ to do with this. Willa's getting older, she needs her mother. Lance and Sawyer are still babies."

"Where are you living, the 1930's?" she demanded, resisting the temptation to stab her heel into the toe of his shoe. "All the responsibility falls to me? They need their father, too, Lucas!"

"In what ways have I _ever_ neglected them, huh?" he shot right back, his anger mounting.

She looked away from him, trying to hide the tears glistening in her eyes. "That list is too long for tonight."

"That is _such_ a fucking lie," he growled.

She was about to retaliate when the voice of the hostess permeated their conversation in the form of an exclamation of, "P. Scott; babe, I missed you _so much_!"

Peyton wiped quickly at her eyes before she wound herself engulfed in a crushing hug. "Brooke Davis," she laughed, gasping for breath. "I missed you, too."

"God, you look gorgeous!" Brooke exclaimed as she pulled away, eyeing Peyton up and down. "Dude," she told Lucas, grinning widely, "Your wife is totally _hot_, look at those legs!"

Lucas lifted his eyebrows but said nothing; Brooke didn't notice. Instead, her eyes narrowed as she scrutinized Peyton's face, lifting a hand to place it gently on her friend's shoulder. "Hey," she said softly, concern lacing every word. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Peyton assured her instantly, pressing her index fingers under her eyes as she tried to clear away her tears without ruining her mascara. "Just memory, you know? I've missed all you guys."

Brooke smiled tenderly. "I missed you, too; you have no idea."

It was amazing, how skilled she'd become at hiding the fact that her marriage, her career, and everything about the life she'd built for herself, was falling apart. No one questioned her anymore. And while part of her appreciated it, another part of her wanted to break down and scream. Brooke was her _best _friend. How could she buy Peyton's lies so easily?

The brunette quirked her eyebrows, studying Peyton's teary eyes with a wicked gleam in her own brown orbs. "Hey…you're not going to be giving me another goddaughter anytime soon, are you?"

She wanted to scoff, but instead she just smiled softly and laughed. "No, believe me…after my pregnancy with the twins, I don't think we're going to be having anymore kids."

"That was rough," Brooke acknowledged, "but only 'cause you're so tiny. You've got to start eating, P. Scott, you're making me look fat."

"Don't be ridiculous," Lucas piped up. "You look spectacular, Brooke."

Peyton glanced at him murderously, shooting daggers at him with her suddenly poisonous green eyes. She could read a lot into that statement, things like _You look better than my wife does_ and _I'm sleeping with my secretary_ or _I care about nothing if it's not materialistic_. She hated him for that one sentence, though she knew deep down that he didn't deserve it.

"_Thank_ you, Luke," Brooke rasped flirtatiously. "Well, listen, I have to…you know, make the rounds, but we are going to start seeing more of each other, okay? And if you ever need some time alone, I'd be happy to take those beautiful kids off your hands for a while, you know how much I love them."

"We know," Peyton assured her softly, reaching out to embrace Brooke again. "Thank you."

Brooke winked at her, smiled over her shoulder at Lucas, and then disappeared back into the well-dressed crowd. The moment she melted away, Peyton rolled her eyes, muttering in a high-pitched voice, "_You look spectacular, Brooke_."

"You have _got_ to be kidding me," Lucas said. "_Seriously_, you're going to hold it over my head that I paid a compliment to our _mutual_ friend?"

"That's not what it's about," she groaned.

"So don't _make_ it about that."

A fresh batch of tears sprang into her eyes without warning. "I'm not…"

"Peyton…" His hand fell to the small of her back, which was bare due to the cut of her pale blue dress. He pulled her toward him and she couldn't resist, just let her eyes flutter closed as he pressed his lips against her forehead. "Come and dance with me."

She let him guide her to the dance floor and wrapped one arm securely around his neck while her other hand settled into his. She moved her body close to his, resting her head on his shoulder, and stopped thinking. Lucas was a great dancer. He knew how to lead, and he did. It was so easy, just to follow him.

"You look so beautiful," he whispered into her hair.

Her smile was bittersweet as she snuggled her head even closer to his shoulder, feeling the warmth from his skin. She didn't care if she messed up her hair. "Thank you," she murmured. "Luke…" she whispered his name the way she always had. A plea, a lament, a caress, an appeal, a command, a question and an answer, all at once.

"Yeah, baby?" His tone told her explicitly that he didn't want her ruining the calm of this moment with their drama.

She wanted to give him what he desired, but at the same time she wasn't willing to put everything aside. She wasn't the type who could brush things away only to deal with them later. When she had clouds threatening to spill rain in the form of disaster, they loomed over her head and they could not be ignored. "Where do we go from here?" she asked quietly.

She felt his lips brush her hairline. "I think that we…we talk, and we try to understand, and we get back. I love you, Peyt. Isn't that what matters?"

"There was a time when I would have said yes," she sighed into his shoulder. "I'm not so sure anymore."

"I think you're making this into a bigger deal than it has to be."

She pulled back abruptly to look right into his blue eyes. "And I think you're belittling a lot of things that are important to me."

"I'm not," he sighed exasperatedly, having gone through this conversation one two many times.

"Don't be condescending," she whispered, shaking her head. "And you _are_. Lucas, God…maybe we got married too young. Maybe we should have taken some time to live out our dreams before we complicated the situation with wedding vows and kids."

"Don't do this," he said mutedly, his voice tight and packed with intensity. "I love you, and our children; I live for our family."

"Do you?" she asked pointedly, her eyes never leaving his.

"This, coming from you," he scoffed in retaliation. At the wounded look she couldn't stop from appearing, he immediately said, "Peyt, I didn't mean –"

"You don't mean a lot lately, huh?" she asked tersely.

"Alright, fine." He cleared his throat. "I'll play. What's your suggestion?"

She wanted to cry at the sound of the bitterness in his voice, but she was too proud. Instead, she lifted her chin and said, "I think that maybe we need a break."

She could have screamed profanities and insults at him for years, she could have slapped him instantly and harshly, she could have done almost anything, and she was sure that he wouldn't look quite as hurt as he did in that moment.

The words were on the tip of her tongue to take it back when she saw that Haley was glancing at them curiously from where she stood about twenty feet away, dancing with Nathan. Peyton shook her head and pulled out of her husband's arms. "I'm sorry, Luke," she said quietly. "I can't do this."

She hurried away from him, rushing in the direction she thought the bathroom was located in. Her heels against the gorgeously tiled floor sounded like a hammer hitting in the last nails on her marriage's coffin. She stopped, placing a hand on a pillar to brace herself, and glanced cautiously back at where she'd left her husband.

He was still standing in the middle of the dance floor, all alone, looking helpless and hopeless, like his heart had just been ripped up.

Peyton knew the feeling.

**A/N: **Feedback is always appreciated…


	2. Family

**A/N: **It seems that happy LP does _wonders_ for my muse. I finally have a full-out plan for this story…and I don't think it's actually been overdone, so that's good! Sorry it's been a while, I just needed a little inspiration, aka the 6x13 coda scene. Feedback would be wonderful.

…_**for Family**_

The walls of the bathroom literally glittered with whatever sparkling faux jewels had been embedded in the walls. One of Brooke's acquaintances from wherever – she looked like a socialite – squealed over the beautifully laid out basket that was filled with all the supplies a girl could ever need at a party. She plucked out the pantyhose and gushed to her friend, "These just _saved_ my _life!_"

Peyton pretended to be washing her hand while the girl slipped into a stall and changed ("God, like, nothing ever works for me! I _cannot_ believe I got a run in these, they cost like thirty bucks!). When they left she released her breath, half-sitting against the counter as she ran her fingers through her hair. If only her problems could be solved that simply.

"Hey…"

A soft voice broke her from her brooding and she looked up to see Haley, standing beside her and wearing an understanding smile.

"You okay?" Haley asked, moving to stand next to her. "You and Luke looked like you were…"

She sighed and tried to smile. "Yeah."

Haley's brow creased with worry. "What's going on?"

The words were all on the tip of her tongue. All of her troubles, her grievances, the hell she'd been going through_. _All of the ways things had turned out, all of things she hadn't wanted to happen. All of the things that left her powerless, all of the things that were her fault. She looked into Haley's neutral, sympathetic eyes… and she couldn't do it. She couldn't tell her.

"You know you can tell me anything, Peyton."

Apparently, she couldn't. She wanted to, she really did…but she couldn't bring herself to tarnish the picture-perfect image of the life everyone believed she was leading.

Brooke burst into the bathroom at that moment with tears in her eyes, and Haley was instantly distracted as she gasped, "Brooke? What is it?"

"Oh, you guys…I'm sorry," the brunette sighed, laughing through her tears.

"Hey, it's okay," Haley said comfortingly. "It's your party, you can cry if you want to."

Brooke let out another weak laugh. "Thanks, Hales, I'm just…being stupid."

"What is it?" Peyton asked quietly, tucking her curls back and out of her face. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror as if she needed to make sure she really was herself.

"I'm happy, you know?" Brooke sighed. "My life is thriving. But then I look at you guys and your families and nothing…seems worth it…anymore."

"Brooke, no. There are ups and downs to every life," Peyton assured her, sighing inwardly.

"Not yours."

"Bull," Haley shot back, firmly but gently. "I work hard, and I worry about Nathan all the time, how hard he pushes himself. We have to work to stick together, to be there for each other and for Jamie. It's not easy. Never is."

The brunette's eyes were filled with tears, the glitter in the walls reflecting in her glistening brown orbs. "But it's worth it, right?"

Haley nodded, glancing downward. "Yeah, it is." She couldn't deny that.

Peyton felt inexplicably threatened when Brooke turned to her and asked, "It's worth it, yeah? You and Luke, you got the fairytale. Those beautiful kids of yours… I've got to admit, P. I get so jealous sometimes."

She shook her head violently. "B. Davis, no, I'm not the person you should be jealous of…"

Brooke frowned. "I know it's stupid but I…I am." She sighed shakily and leaned forward, twisting the tap and splashing her face with water.

The look Haley shot Peyton over Brooke's head was purely questioning. When the blonde averted her eyes, Haley spoke: "Really, seriously…what's going on?"

"Nothing."

"You can tell us." Haley's brow furrowed. "Come on."

"Really, I…it's nothing. I'm just not feeling too good," she shrugged, coming up with a pathetic excuse off the top of her head, attempting to laugh it off.

Brooke peered at her curiously through red eyes, her sadness fading away. "P. Scott, did you take a test? Because –"

"Brooke," she cut her off, forcing a laugh. "You can ask me if I'm pregnant a million times, but that's not going to make it true."

Haley reached out and took both of their hands. "What is this? The first time we see each other in months and we're messes!"

"Yeah," Brooke agreed with a throaty laugh. "But I think that maybe…this was what I needed. Maybe I need to go home. Maybe we all do."

"Maybe," Haley said gently. "C'mon," she added with an encouraging smile. "Let's get back out there and dance!"

Brooke smiled back, her dimples brightening her face again. "I'll get the band to play something good. Let's get down, Peyton Elizabeth," she added teasingly to their friend who had been quiet thus far.

Peyton returned their smiles as best as she could, with as much fake joy as she could muster. "Just give me a minute, okay?"

"You gonna be okay?"

She knew what the question meant; it asked after her physical wellbeing, and since she wasn't going to vomit or faint, she said, "I'm fine."

But she wasn't.

-x-

"Whoa, you okay, there?"

"_Me_? I'm fine. And you…are fiiiine."

Peyton smiled indulgently, placing her hand on Haley's back as the shorter woman flung her arms sloppily around her husband's neck, gushing over his appearance. "You got her?" she asked Nathan. It seemed like a good time to giggle, but she didn't have the energy.

"Yeah," he laughed, with a careless smile. "You never could handle your liquor, couldja, Hales?" He swept her up in his arms effortlessly, bridal-style. "See you guys in the morning," he said over his shoulder as Haley waved goodbye to them enthusiastically.

"G'night," Brooke chuckled, waving back. She pulled her hair, cut chic and short, back into a ponytail with her hand and then let it fall again so that it framed her face. "Can I get you guys anything?"

"We're fine," Lucas lied for them both. They'd both gotten so good at that. "Thanks got letting us stay here."

"Hey, no problem," she replied, waving away his words with a flick of her wrist. "I get lonely in this huge apartment by myself. I love having you here, and your munchkins."

Peyton smiled genuinely for the first time in hours. "They love seeing their Aunt Brooke."

Brooke returned her smile wholeheartedly, clearly pleased to see her happy. "Of course they do," she said, and her laughter morphed into a yawn. "Okay, I'm spent – bedtime for the hostess; it's been a stressful night. I'll see you two in the morning." She kissed both of their cheeks, then pressed two fingers to her lips and blew a kiss over her shoulder as she walked off. "'m glad you're here. Love ya."

The moment Brooke meandered out of the room, Peyton made a beeline for the fashionista's well-stocked bar, mumbling, "I need a drink."

"You didn't have enough alcohol at the _party_ we just attended."

She shot him her bitterest glare and didn't bother responding.

Lucas sighed and ran a hand over his eyes. "I'm sorry. Peyton…I'm sorry."

"Of all things you could apologize for…"

"You're worrying me," he said quietly. "I've seen you upset before, but I've never seen you turn to drinking like you have been lately."

She slammed down her glass for effect. "Save me the concern, Luke."

"Peyton…please, can we not…let's just go to bed, okay?"

"You're free to go," she said simply, pouring a full glass of liquor without even glancing at the bottle to see what it was.

"That's not the point and you know it," he growled, running out of patience.

"I'll sleep out here," she shrugged, ignoring his words. "We'll tell them I fell asleep while we were talking…and I just looked so darn cute and peaceful that you didn't want to wake me by moving me." She arched her eyebrows, crossed her arms over her chest, and took a drink.

He shook his head in disbelief, and she chose to pretend she hadn't seen the hurt glimmering in his gorgeous blue eyes. "This is it? _This_ is how it's going to be? Lying like it doesn't matter, not acknowledging the issues?"

She pressed her lips together and slammed her glass down again, scowling at him. "The _issues_, as you put it, are not _my_ fault, so don't…don't talk like…" Words were failing her and she hated it.

Lucas took a tentative step toward her. "You're being unreasonable. _Illogical_. What the fuck is the matter with you lately?"

She blinked; it was her turn to shake her head in disbelief, and not just at the audacity of his question. Lucas adored her. He practically worshipped the ground she walked off. Even with the fighting and the tension and the bitterness of the past few months, he'd never taken that tone with her, never looked at her the way he was. She stared at a spot on the floor. "I cannot believe you just asked me that with a straight face."

"Peyt –"

"The _matter_ is that I've really needed you, I've needed my _husband_ lately, but you're too busy…with your _editor_, with your book launch parties, your travelling." _What about me?_ she ached to ask. _What about my work, my problems, my boss, our kids? What about all of the problems you promised me we'd face together?_

Tired of her nagging and her ambiguity, he snapped, "When did you become such a needy bitch?"

_Bastard!_ she wanted to scream. _You insensitive ass!_ But she simply levelled him with her gaze and threw her drink in his face. As he spluttered indignantly, droplets dripping off his cheeks, she could feel her eyes filling with tears – she hoped that, to her husband, it only looked like liquor-induced haziness. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction of having made her cry. "When we get back to L.A.," she said evenly, without a hint of emotion in her voice. "I want you to move out."

-x-

"Morning, sleepyhead," was the greeting Peyton received the next morning from Haley, who had joined her on the couch, stretched out in the opposite direction, and hogging the blanket.

Peyton sat up, running a hand through her hair and squinting sleepily at her friend. "You look like shit. How's the hangover?"

"Disgusting," Haley said weakly, covering her face with her hands momentarily. "_You_ look like you didn't sleep in the same bed as your husband." She softened her expression, massaging her temples and wincing slightly. "You want to tell me what's going on, Peyton?" she asked quietly.

Lucas saved her – and she didn't miss the irony of it. He swooped in at that moment in his sexiest sweater, which had Peyton wondering if he was purposefully trying to torture her, and leaned down, placing a smacking kiss on Haley's forehead. "Nothing," he laughed. "You're so worried all the time, Haley James Scott," he added playfully, a fond smile on his lips. "Peyt fell asleep on the couch. She looked so damn cute I couldn't bring myself to move her." Only Peyton noticed the mocking, irritated undertone.

"Aw, you softie," Haley teased back.

Peyton flashed her husband her sweetest smile, which he returned, though it definitely didn't reach his eyes. He leaned down toward her, murmured, "Hey, baby," and pressed his lips to her.

"Good morning," she replied, her voice sugary and warm. She sat up and swung her legs off the soda, pulling the strap of her tank top back onto her shoulder. "Where're my babies?" she asked, and Brooke walked into the room on cue.

"Right here!" she said with a grin, all three of Lucas and Peyton's kids hanging off of her.

"Hey, where are my good morning hugs?" she demanded with a playful pout, extending her arms.

Six-year-old Willa launched herself into her mother's arms, nearly tackling her backwards, and Peyton winced as her hangover headache kicked in. She laughed nonetheless. "Morning, Mom."

"Good morning to you, too. Go bother your daddy for some breakfast, okay?" she asked with a smile. "And there's my boy," she added, her smile growing to full capacity again as Brooke handed her two-year-old Lawrence Keith – named for her adoptive father and Lucas' beloved uncle – whom they'd all been calling Lance since he was only about a week old. She joked about it, saying that he'd take after his dad, grow up to be someone's Lancelot, knight in shining armour.

"Mama," he said contentedly, snuggling into her arms. He was really her baby, always requiring a little bit of extra attention. She kissed his cheeks and tickled his tummy.

His twin sister, who was technically ten minutes younger and still perched in her aunt's arms, was much more independent, and was currently babbling to Brooke using what words she knew.

"I think your mama wants a hug," Brooke told her, a teasing lilt in her voice, and handed over the other toddler.

Sawyer, whose name had been of Lucas' choosing, was only ever addressed by her first name by her father. Her middle names were Isabella and Penelope; and in general most people in her life called her Bella. She was a sweetheart and a goofball; reminded everyone of Peyton before life caught up with her.

"Hey, baby girl, c'mere; do you want some breakfast?" Lucas asked, picking their youngest child up without even glancing at Peyton.

"Come on, you lazy kids," Brooke told Haley and Peyton with a smile. "Get up, let's get some breakfast into you. Or at least some coffee."

Jamie, nearly ten and sitting on a stool in the kitchen, inquired innocently, "Did you guys get drunk?"

Nathan chuckled and Haley sighed as she sat up. "And _that's_ why I'm so reluctant to let him grow up," she laughed lightly.

They congregated together in the kitchen, and the girls, who argued that they had worse hangovers and kids to take care of, forced the guys to cook – which they did willingly, though they complained playfully all the while.

Peyton looked around and couldn't help but smile, even though it felt bittersweet. Nathan picked up Bella and danced her around the kitchen, Haley laughed at a private joke with Willa, Brooke doted on Lance, Lucas whined that no one was helping him and Jamie chuckled at his uncle's expense. Peyton's hand clutched at her mug of coffee until her knuckles turned white.

When things quieted down a bit, Lucas sidled up to her. They were both quiet for a moment, and then she spoke, not really to him, not really to herself…she just spoke. "This is nice," she whispered, and Lucas sighed heavily next to her.

"Peyton," he said softly, his tone urgent and full of meaning. "I don't know who you _are_ anymore, how you got so jaded, how things got so bad – for you, and for _us_. But we can fix it, can't we?" A note of desperation crept into his voice and the sound of it made it hard for her to swallow. "I miss you," he said earnestly, the simplest and most heartfelt of statements. "I miss this," he added, meaning the warmth of the familial atmosphere.

She nodded slowly, but she wouldn't back down on her decision. She loved him, but he'd hurt her, and she knew in her heart that she'd hurt him back.

She spoke simply and deliberately before escaping the kitchen on the pretence of fetching a sweater from her bag. "I'm going to miss it, too."


	3. Perfect Moments

**A/N: **Blizzards give me time to write. I just want to get the ball rolling with this story. Feedback is always great to receive, thanks for your reviews on the last chapter. :)

…_**for Perfect Moments**_

"Mommy, are you mad at me?"

Peyton glanced in the rear view mirror, meeting her eldest child's eyes. It was a rare occasion that Willa called her 'Mommy' these days; older and _cooler_, she'd been addressing her as 'Mom' for quite a while. "No, baby, of course I'm not."

"You look mad," she pointed out simply. Lucas, switching lanes, smirked slightly and Peyton shot him her dirtiest glare.

"I'm not, babe, don't worry about it." She cleared her throat and sighed, glancing at the billboards as their car flew down the road. She hadn't done much driving since she got pregnant with Willa – Lucas had instantly gotten protective, well aware of tendency to speed, and hadn't allowed her much time behind the wheel. That didn't change after Willa was born; when she was working downtown, it was easier to walk or take a cab, anyhow.

It was odd how all of a sudden the fact that her husband did all the driving was making her feel threatened.

She twisted in her seat. Lance and Bella were napping, her head resting against his shoulder, his head leaning atop of hers. Willa was the only one alert and awake, happy to be home. Peyton noticed the dark circles under her daughter's eyes and frowned worriedly before she sighed. "Listen, baby, I need to talk to you about something."

Lucas glanced at her, eyes wide. "_Now_? You're going to do this in the _car_?"

"Do what?" Willa asked instantly, her curiosity peaked.

"The sooner I tell her, the sooner you leave," she said with her sickly sweet smile.

"Tell me _what_?" their daughter huffed impatiently, bright blue eyes flying back and forth between her parents.

Peyton licked her lips nervously. She loved her kids more than anything. Growing up, she'd lost out on a family too young, and gaining one as an adult had made her whole. She hated to hurt her children, in any way, but she chose to blame her husband for the current predicament. "Daddy's going to…have to go away for a little while," she said carefully, delicately phrasing her sentence.

Willa saw through her instantly – there were moments when Peyton thought that her daughter had a better way with words than she did; definitely something she'd inherited from her dad. "Why? Where? How long? What's that mean?"

"Honey, we're not…really sure of the specifics yet."

Willa bit down on her lower lip until it turned white. "Are you mad at Daddy?" she asked, so cautiously and quietly that Peyton had to choke down the sudden need to cry.

"It's really…it's complicated. But baby, you don't have to worry, okay? I love you, and your daddy loves, and you're still going to spend lots of time with both of us, because and your brother and sister matter the most."

"That sounds verbatim from some lame parenting book," Lucas muttered, and she whirled around to stare at him incredulously.

"Would you _shut up_?" she asked harshly, but she was also pleading with him.

There was an immediate glimmer of apology in his eyes as he glanced over at her. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, and she took that to mean that he understood that, for the moment, it wasn't about them, but about their kids. "You're mom's right, baby girl," he added at a normal volume, glancing at Willa in the rear view mirror. "We both love you so much. And we don't want you to worry."

"What happens next?" She was always trying to look older, to be a big girl, but she looked small and pale and scared as Peyton turned back toward her.

They could tell her not to worry a million times; that didn't mean that she wouldn't.

"We don't have all the answers, honey," she said softly, speaking around the lump in her throat. She'd learned the same lesson when she was not much older than Willa, when her mother died and both her father and her world fell apart. She was determined to protect her kids in whatever ways she could from feeling that same sort of helplessness.

Willa wore a deep frown, an intense pout, on her little lips. "What if I want to go with Daddy?" she challenged.

Peyton felt the blood drain from her face. She opened her mouth, but she didn't have anything to say. She'd known her daughter would be upset, but she hadn't even stopped to consider the possibility that her kids might not want to stay _with_ her. "I…well…"

She jumped a little as Lucas' hand came to rest on her knee. He didn't look at her, though – he kept his eyes on the road as he spoke. "Willa, baby, this isn't…forever, okay? We'll figure things out and then we'll start making decisions like that. But for now, you'll stay with your mom. That's what I want, too. Okay?"

There was a moment of silence during which Peyton couldn't breathe, and then Willa finally agreed, "Okay, Daddy."

-x-

"So, am I allowed to ask what this is?" Lucas inquired, his voice thick and tired.

She flicked the cardboard with her index finger and said mockingly, "It's called a _moving box_. It'll help you get your ass out of my house."

He glared at her, and she wondered if he was resisting the temptation to hit her over the head with the box. "I _mean_, between you and me. Temporary separation? Are we…are we getting divorced?"

Peyton hated the way he said that, with a hitch in his voice like his heart was breaking. She couldn't handle it. "I don't know, Lucas," she whispered. "I just don't know." Their kids, exhausted from the trip, were napping, and she wanted to get most of her husband's things packed up before they woke up and Willa started asking questions.

"Peyton." His hand closed over hers as she went to hand him a box, stopping her hasty movements. "Stop, just stop for a minute," he said gently, his thumb caressing the inner part of her wrist as he tugged her closer to him.

"What?" she said, somehow managing to snap at him and whisper at the same time.

He lifted his hand and cautiously touched her cheek. "Let's just sit down and talk this out. Please, Peyt."

She batted his hand away and instantly missed the contact. "You only care now because it's ending. Last week you didn't give a damn."

"That's not true! God, where are you getting this crap? I care now, and I cared then, I'll always care! I love you _so_ much." He shook his head. "Peyton, babe, please don't do this. I don't want to go. I don't…you're just such a big part of me."

She blinked back her tears and refused to meet his eyes. "And I thought _I _was the _needy bitch_," she quoted him bitterly, yanking her hand away and pacing out of the room. He could pack by himself.

Downstairs and alone in the kitchen, she stormed around, cleaning up viciously. It took work for her not to burst into tears when a water bottle she'd tossed toward the recycling bin didn't go in.

She leaned against the counter and buried her face in her hands. She'd had such conviction earlier, but it was fading away. She loved him, she did. Things were just so hard recently, and yet the thing was, she didn't think they'd get much easier with Luke gone.

Desperate for a way to attempt to distract herself, she took a few steps and went over to the phone, pressing the button that would allow her to listen to her messages.

_Hey, P. Scott_, Brooke's voice sang out, filling the room. _Call me when you get in, okay, and tell me my favourite Scott family got in safe. And don't tell Hales I called you my favourite Scott family. I miss you already, and I found a tiny pair of socks that I think are Bells'. If you really need them, I can FedEx 'em. Let me know. Love you, girlie. _

Peyton smiled reluctantly and pressed the _delete_ button, making a mental note to call Brooke when she knew her voice wouldn't sound all shaky and broken.

_Hi, Mrs. Scott, this is Dr. Holloway's office, calling about your – _

She slammed her finger against the _stop_ button so forcefully that the plastic cracked. She took a moment just to breathe, to gather air into her lungs again.

There were reasons that he needed to leave. She wasn't going to change her mind.

-x-

She stood in the doorway of Willa's room, dimly lit only by natural light, watching her daughter sleep. She was so beautiful, so perfect, so innocent.

She wondered if her own mother had even done this. Peyton had a hard time parting with her kids at certain moments – she was a bona fide mess on Willa's first day of school, she'd cried when she'd left the twins with a babysitter for the first time, and one nights when she couldn't sleep, she'd grab an extra blanket and curl up to watch her children slumber. It calmed her down, reminded her that life could actually be good.

Lucas came to stand behind her, and for once she couldn't bring herself to move right away. "I'm packed," he said softly, and she felt a sharp pain in her chest for a millisecond.

"Okay."

"Can I wait…to go…until they wake up? So I can say goodbye?"

"Of course you can. But it's not…it's not like you're leaving _forever_," she choked out, surprised by the lump in her throat. "You don't have to sound like…"

She needed to move. This moment was throwing her into the past and making her too emotional for a time at which she'd promised herself she'd remain detached. Standing in the doorway of Willa's room, watching her baby sleep, Lucas standing just behind her. It had been exactly like that on the night he came home and she pulled his arms around her from behind so that his hands rested on her stomach, and told him that she was pregnant again.

It was one of the best moments in her entire life, the way his eyes had shone with happiness as he angled his head toward hers and gave her a perfect kiss, his hands resting flat against her tummy.

"Peyt," he said, his voice husky and sad, lips grazing her neck, and she was back in that moment, complete and real déjà vu, as his hands wrapped around her and his lips sought out hers.

She should've pulled back, but her body wouldn't listen to that particular command. Instead, she found herself turning around, letting his grip on her tighten. Her arms twined around his neck effortlessly, pulling him as close as humanly possible.

He managed to pull them both into the hallway, closing Willa's door softly, and Peyton found herself with her back pressed up to the way, Lucas' hands all over her.

"Let me stay, babe," he murmured against her lips before he dipped his head down and dedicated his attention to her neck.

"Luke," she breathed out, the single word catching in her throat.

"I love you. God, I love you."

She was one big mixed signal, pushing his shirt off his shoulders while murmuring weakly, "Wait, Luke, no, stop."

His mouth found hers again for a kiss that left her gasping for air as he whispered softly, "You and me, we can work this out, Peyt." The lust of it all dropped away almost instantly as her tenderly pushed her hair out of her face, his hand stilled halfway up her shirt. "You and me, we've got to be okay."

The tears she'd needed to cry for the past twenty-four hours finally came tumbling out of her eyes at the loving way he spoke and touched her.

"Shh," Lucas said soothingly, kissing away the salty tears on her cheeks.

"But we're _not_," she choked out, tragic green eyes meeting his troubled blue eyes. She pushed him away, wishing that she didn't have to. "We are _not_ okay."

-x-

"Dada," Bella whimpered from Peyton's arms, whining and reaching toward her father.

He leaned in and kissed both her cheeks again. "Daddy'll be back soon, baby girl, I promise. I love you so much, okay?" he asked with a forced smile, nuzzling his nose against hers and glancing at Peyton, a wounded expression on his face.

"No!" Bella cried, using her strong set of little lungs to the best of their ability, the moment Lucas took a step back again.

Peyton sighed. This was most definitely not how she'd wanted their goodbyes to go. "Willa, honey, take your brother and sister into the living room and pick a movie, okay? We'll watch it in a minute. I bought brownies," she said, ashamed at herself for her attempt at bribery but feeling like she had no other choice.

Willa frowned up at her, but in the end didn't say no to her mother's hopeful smile, and herded the toddlers back inside.

She swallowed hard as she closed the door behind the kids, stepping outside with Lucas. Now she had a veritable excuse to make this short and sweet – she couldn't leave their children alone inside for too long.

So it was a pathetic excuse, but at least she _had_ a real excuse.

She crossed her arms over her chest and faced her husband. "So…um…where're you gonna go?"

Lucas looked deep into her eyes for a moment before shaking his head. "You can't really think that I'm having an affair. You just can't. Peyton, I –"

She shook her head as well, effectively cutting him off. "I don't. I don't think that."

"Then _why_…"

"There are lots of reasons. And some of them…" She glanced down before she could meet his eyes again. "I'm not…I'm not trying to _blame_ you. I just think that this is better. For you. And me. The kids."

"You really…you believe me?"

She nodded. Somehow it was easier to admit when she knew that she didn't have to see him for the next few hours. "I believe you."

"Okay. I, um, well…I guess I'm going."

"Okay."

"Alright."

"Yeah."

"So…bye," he said, his voice shaking a little.

Peyton sighed. "Call me from…wherever you go…tomorrow. Okay? You can take the kids out for lunch or something."

"So I'm gonna be one of _those_ dads now, huh?" His tone was bitter but resigned.

She bit her lower lip and looked away. She knew that he'd never wanted that, and she didn't want it for him. "We'll figure it out," she whispered, pleading a little bit.

"Yeah…whatever." He shouldered his bag and turned to go. "Bye, Peyton."

He took thirteen steps before she dredged up the courage to speak. "Luke." He glanced back at her and she took a deep breath, swallowing her tears. "I love you," she said, her voice super-soft, because she couldn't let him leave without that.

Seconds later, his car was pulling out of the driveway and she was staring at the oil stains on the driveway trying to ignore how her vision blurred.

She had really, truly, and honestly expected him to say it back.


	4. Forgiveness

**A/N: **Damn, I'm on a roll with this story. It's kind of remarkable considering how blocked I currently am for most other things I'm writing. The song used is identified within the chapter, and is completely and totally beautiful. Happy OTH day! Reviews are love, your feedback has been super so far. Patience, grasshoppers. I'll reveal most things pretty soon, I promise. I love speculation in the mean time. :)

..**._for Forgiveness_**

"Sawyer!" Craig, Peyton's unbearably irritating boss, snapped the moment he spotted her. His name wasn't even actually Craig; it was just the name he thought was _best fit to his personality_. He also wasn't technically her boss – he was her old boss, from when she was just getting started, and whom had since picked up the habit of monitoring her success in life. She hated his reasoning, she disagreed with his logic, and she pretty much despised the man.

"I know!" she yelled back, pushing her hair out of her face. "I'm late, I know. But seriously, _Mike_, I've been married for seven years, my last name is _Scott_." It was her basic instinct to make a comeback like that; it occurred to her on that morning that she might not necessarily be a Scott for much longer…at least of things continued at the same rate they'd been going.

"Yeah, whatever," he said dismissively as he paced over to her. "I've asked you to call me Mr. Walker about three hundred times, it's not as though you've started to do so. But never mind all of that. _Listen_."

"_Listening_," she said back sarcastically, in the same intense tone, resting all her weight on one hip and turning to face him.

"The last band you signed."

Peyton heaved a weary sigh. She was past the point at which she could patiently deal with this. "What _about_ it, Michael?"

"They _suck_."

Her eyebrows flew sky-high. "_Excuse_ me?"

"They are the worst band I've _ever_ heard."

"They are not!" she argued, albeit a bit childishly, gathering up her things and pushing past him.

"Their sales are virtually _nonexistent_, Sawyer."

"That's not…" Her objection faded away as he shoved a file that demonstrated the proof of his words in front of her face. "Well, fine, _right now_ they're not doing so well. We'll just up the publicity a little…"

"Peyton," Craig said simply. "Darling, listen to me. No amount of publicity is going to help. They're awful."

"But I…" She sank into a chair and sighed. "Music is my thing," she whispered. "This is my life, this is my…my passion. I'm never wrong."

"Now, that's not true. You've been wrong before; both times you were pregnant. Remember, that's how you figured out you were having a baby, the second time." He paused, eyes widening. "Oh, no; _now_ is _not_ a good time for you to be pregnant."

"Okay…" She sat back in her chair, holding out a hand to stop him from continuing and taking a deep breath. "_Firstly_, it is none of your business when a _good time_ for me to be pregnant is. If I'm having a baby, I'm having a baby, and there's not exactly anything you can do about it."

His face crumpled in a dramatic, almost comical way, as he squeaked, "You're having a baby?"

She wanted to take off her shoe and throw it at him. "I said _firstly._ Secondly…no. I'm not having a baby, so don't…have a cow."

"Are you sure?" he asked worriedly.

"_No_. I figured I'd just guess. And if in nine months I have another kid then…hey, _cool_." Her eyes shot daggers at him.

Craig held up his hands in surrender. "You're certainly _acting_ hormonal."

"Why are you here, in _my_ offices?" she asked tiredly, unable to keep this up.

"Aw. Are you done being feisty?" he asked, a disappointed frown tugging down his lips. "'Cause you know how I like that."

"Today, of all days, I cannot do this, okay?" she muttered, glancing up at him, vulnerable for a moment.

His smile was almost sympathetic. "Can I help you with something, Sawyer?"

"Your leaving would do _wonders_ for my mood."

Craig smirked. "Drop a button on that shirt and I'll run damage control for your band."

Peyton scowled at him for a long moment, and he stared right back, already aware that he'd won. With a sigh, she slipped a button out of its hole, exposing the smallest bit of the red material of her bra. "Happy?"

His smirk stayed in place as he hopped off the table where he sat, leaned down, and kissed her cheek. "You've got no idea," he chuckled, close to her ear, and then walked off jauntily.

Peyton redid the button – plus another – on her shirt, propped her elbows up on the cool, smooth surface of the table, and rested her head in her hands. It was utterly amazing how so much could change, and how so very little could, at the same time.

-x-

"Scott," she answered her phone, her tone businesslike and smooth. Lucas answered his phone the exact same way.

"You busy?" her husband's voice asked shortly.

She paused, CD tumbling out of her grasp. "I…um…no. I guess I'm not."

"Can we talk?"

"Yeah," she breathed. "Sure. Talk."

"I was hoping…maybe we could meet. You and me…and the kids. Or not, if that would make things easier."

"Luke…listen," she sighed. "The kids are at home with Kaitlyn," she said simply, referring to their oft-employed college-aged babysitter, who was as crazy about their kids as she was about the exciting science behind her physics major. "Why don't you go get them and take them out?"

"Peyton. I want to see them, I'm dying without them, but I want to _talk_ to _you_." His tone was even and rational. He clearly really wanted what he was asking for.

"I know," she replied softly, sinking into her swivelling chair with a sigh. "But this is a horrible, horrible day for me at work and I just _can't_. Just…call me tomorrow, and I'll see what we can do."

"What's going on at work?"

She wasn't in a place that allowed her to be able to deal with the sudden heartfelt concern in his voice. "My band flopped, okay?" she snapped aggressively. "Which you would know if you'd been interested in my life lately. No one bought the fucking CD."

"I did," Lucas said, softly and simply, and a maverick sob escaped her lips before she could even think about stopping it. Of course he did.

"I have to go," she whispered, and hung up before he could say anything else that would make her want him back.

-x-

When she spotted her home phone number on her caller ID about three hours later, she snatched up her cell and snapped, "I told you, not today, okay? What the hell are you doing there? I told you that you could take the kids _out_. They need to adjust to the fact that you're not living there anymore!"

"Um…sorry?"

She let out her breath and sighed, laughing a little, embarrassed at her own mistake. "Kaitlyn, hi…wow, _I'm_ sorry. What's up?" she asked conversationally, double-clicking to open the latest e-mail she'd received, dedicating only half of her attention to the phone call.

"Lucas came and picked the kids up and took them out – which, by the way, I'm still wondering about, but social etiquette is keeping me from giving you the third degree about this _separation_ of yours – and dropped them off about thirty minutes ago…and Willa's looking a little green. She says she wants you to come home."

Peyton turned away from her computer. "Put her on."

There was some rustling, the sound of cartoons on the TV, Bella's giggle, and then Willa said weakly, "Mommy?"

"Hey, sweetie," she said gently. "You're not feeling very good?"

"Like I'm shaking all over and I can't stop. Mommy, come home," her six-year-old begged, and Peyton sighed. Clearly this was just not a day that she could work.

"Okay, honey, I'm on my way. Were you feeling sick when you were with Daddy? Did you tell him?"

Willa whimpered and Peyton's heart skipped a beat. What the hell was she doing, searching for more reasons to be angry with Lucas? Her child was sick. "Okay, never mind. I'm on my way, I promise."

-x-

"_He-ey_," Kaitlyn's voice was so full of relief when Peyton walked in that her word of greeting stretched into two syllables.

"You look worried. You're worried. Is it that bad?" she asked frantically as she shed her coat.

"No," the babysitter replied comfortingly, pulling on her own jacket. "But I think she's running a fever, and I am two minutes away from being late for a seminar."

"I know, I'm sorry, traffic was bad and cab driver got lost…" She trailed off and shook her head, scribbling a quick check for what was probably more than necessary and handing it off. "Get out of here. And thank you."

"No problem," Kaitlyn assured her, flashing her pearly whites as she rushed out the door.

Willa was curled into the corner of the couch, eyes hidden behind her hand, a position Peyton knew all too well. It was the exact position she herself curled up into when she felt like she was about to launch.

"Aw, baby…you okay?"

"No," Willa murmured, her lips tinged blue.

Peyton placed her hand against her daughter's forehead. She was radiating warmth. "Okay. You're okay. Let's just get you upstairs and into your jammies, then into bed."

"Are you going to take my temperature?"

"No, babe, I don't need to, you're really hot. I'll get you some medicine, and make you that really good juice you like," she added quickly, hoping to avoid the cough medicine blues.

"I don't _want_ medication," Willa pouted.

"I know, baby girl, but you'll feel better afterward." She smiled reassuringly. "Luke, will you look after the twins while I – "

She stopped short; her heart felt heavy in her chest. It was just such a natural instinct for her to assume that they'd go through everything _with_ one another. That's what marriage was. Single parenthood suddenly loomed before her, huge and intimidating and scary.

"Okay," she said to herself. "Hey, Lance, Bella," she cooed, kissing both of her younger children's foreheads, "You stay right here and be good, okay? Mama's just going to –"

"_Mom_," Willa said urgently, her voice tight and tense.

Peyton knew what that meant. She rushed away from her toddlers, helped Willa up, steered her into the kitchen, grabbed the garbage can, and held her daughter's hair up while she vomited.

"Shh," Peyton soothed when Willa coughed, pushing the garbage can away. She rubbed her back and kissed her hair. "Better now?"

"My legs still feel all shaky," Willa informed her, and then burst promptly into tears, scared by her own illness, how unlike herself she felt.

Peyton situated her on one of the kitchen chairs and crouched down next to her. "I know. I know. Being sick's no fun," she said comfortingly, wearing a sympathetic pout, stroking her daughter's hair gently. "But you'll be a big, brave girl, right? If you take your medication, you can go to sleep, and when you wake up you'll feel better and I'll let you have some ice cream, okay?"

Willa's thin arms curled around her stomach as she hunched forward, curling in on herself, blonde curls falling to shield her face, the way Peyton used to let her hair hang, hiding from the world.

"Baby?" Peyton prodded, gently tucking Willa's tangled hair back behind her ear.

The six-year-old glanced over at her wearing a worried, wounded expression. "I hate this," she said softly, and Peyton could look only at her child's trembling lips, the bruise-like circles until her perfect blue eyes. She was talking about more than her sickness, that was certain.

Peyton felt a sudden surge of nausea herself, remembering, with dread, the message she had yet to listen to that was still sitting, waiting, on their machine.

She had meant for Lucas' absence to pull them up, save them from the imminent downward spiral.

But maybe she'd been expecting things that just couldn't happen.

-x-

The day exhausted her. She'd finally gotten medicine down Willa's throat and wrestled her into bed, then she'd had to deal with her younger kids. Bella, who'd always been a little moody, was particularly tough to handle when she get asking for her daddy. And Lance, who was used to a little extra cuddling from his mom, fell into a pout immediately when she started getting cranky with them.

"Mama's tired," she tried to reason with them, but they were too young and too innocent to understand any of what was happening. "I'm sorry. I'm just tired," she whispered, kissing their bellies and trying to make them smile.

They'd had such a routine worked out that it had never occurred to Peyton that this could be _more_ work. She was the morning parent. She was better at early moments than Lucas; she got up and fed Lance and Bella, got Willa all ready for school, did the dishes, made lunches and snacks and planned out the day, all while showering and getting dressed and managing to prepare for her own day. Lucas handled nights, bedtime stories and baths and the enforcement of the hours at which their kids were supposed to go to bed. They helped each other out at all times, always willing to be with their children, but she'd always taken on the hours when he needed more rest, and Lucas had done the same. It was perfect symbiosis, but she'd never really realized it before.

She'd put her kids to bed before, plenty of times – mostly with Lucas by her side, but occasionally alone. Apparently, though, she didn't know the exact right way to tuck in a certain blanket, the rhythm to a particular piece of poetry. Even the lullabies that she had fallen asleep to herself as a child took several repetitions before her babies settled.

She woke Willa, who was a scared, upset mess, once more to give her more medication, and tucked her back in.

"Tell me the story," Willa whispered weakly, her voice sleepy and sickly.

Peyton didn't have to ask which story. _The_ story was her history with Lucas. He told it beautifully, romantic and enthralling and full of action, completely PG and in language simple enough for Willa to both understand and appreciate. Most of the time she allowed the telling of the story to be daddy-daughter time, grabbing a few extra moments to be with the twins or fold laundry or just relax. Occasionally, however, she would join Lucas and Willa, or even their whole small family, curled up on the bed, and listen, too.

She knew it by heart; it was her history too, and she knew every word, every emphasis, every subtle way Lucas said things to make it so perfect. It never failed to make her blush, the reverent way he talked about her, and the way he said _Lucas and Peyton_ as though they ranked right up there with Romeo and Juliet. It warmed her heart, made her fall in love even more, and always settled her babies into a peaceful slumber. What was more still was that it was an unfailing turn on, and she could not remember a single time Lucas had told that story that didn't end with her dragging him down the hall, kissing his neck and nipping at his lips, whispering in his ear until it was _his_ turn to have red cheeks.

She hated to deny Willa anything, especially when she was sick. At the best of the time it was difficult, with her daddy's eyes shining out of her adorable face. But she couldn't handle it, not with the hell she was currently going through.

"Not tonight, sweetie," she said quietly, kissing her daughter's forehead firmly. "I'm sorry, but not tonight."

Then she left the room, quietly but quickly, before Willa could complain that she wanted her father to come home.

When she was finally alone in the quiet, dark house, she migrated to the kitchen, hopping up to sit on the counter. She sighed. They had a house full of great rooms, but this was the place she and Lucas had always chosen to be with each other before they headed up to bed. Talking, laughing, drinking, snacking, and playing around. They didn't sex in the kitchen, no matter how tempting it was, no matter how impatient they'd both been, no matter how much she'd begged. Lucas was too much of a romantic for that, insisting that she deserved better, and whining playfully that he watching people cook and eat food in that room every day. He'd only caved once, ever, and that was the night they conceived their younger kids.

She slid off the counter, opened the fridge, and pulled out a bottle of red wine. She grabbed a glass from the cupboard and emptied the remaining contents of the bottle into it. She hadn't felt like as much of a failure as she did in that moment in a long, long time. Maybe even not since she'd met her husband.

The message machine blinked. Red, nothing, red, nothing. Mocking her. She shook her head, abandoning her wine and walking out of the room, heading upstairs.

She lit a bunch of candles before she turned the lights out. She needed a little aroma therapy, and in complete honesty, she was slightly afraid. Of the darkness, of the silence, of the smothering sense of _alone_.

She meandered over to their impressive sound system and started flicking through their CDs, looking for something to cheer her up. She smiled slightly as she skimmed through the Spice Girls and Lupe Fiasco – possibilities that would probably help her relax.

Something caught her eye on the floor, a glittering glimmer, and she bent down to find out what it was.

Straightening up, she saw that it was the cracked case of a homemade CD. She recognized it immediately – Lucas had made it for her recently in an attempt to apologize for a fight, and she'd been so angry by what she'd deemed a weak gesture that she'd flung it against the wall, breaking the case, and hadn't given it a second thought.

He'd scribbled a note to her on the front in permanent marker.

_Robert Muller once said: "To forgive is the highest, most beautiful form of love. In return, you will receive untold peace and happiness". Wise words, but I don't know if I agree with the man. What I feel for you…I think that ranks above. I can forgive you anything, Peyt. And I would and will wait forever for to forgive me back. You've given me untold peace and happiness. I don't need anything more. _

Her fingers shook as they traced over the words. Slowly, she opened the case, took the disc out, and placed it in their high-sound-quality CD player.

She grabbed the remote, making sure to turn the volume down so that it wouldn't wake the kids, and pulled the sheets down before curling up in bed.

The beginning notes were familiar, in both a comforting and a heartbreaking way. She'd told him, once, how much she adored Aqualung, the gentle music and the poetry of the lyrics. Smiling back, stroking her hair, he'd said that _Strange and Beautiful_ reminded him of the first moment he'd ever seen her, back when they were kids.

_I've been, watching your world from afar. I've been, trying to be where you are. _

She buried her face in her pillow and let herself cry. He had loved her, even then.

Why couldn't she let him love her now?

_To me, you're strange and you're beautiful. You'd be so perfect with me but you just can't see. _

The sound of retching, harsh and unpleasant, pulled her out of her moment of misery. She jumped out of bed and raced into Willa's room. "Honey!" she cried.

It was nearly an hour later that she'd finally finished. She cleaned up the mess, got Willa to drink a full glass of water and take another dose of medication, gotten Bella, who'd woken up, back to sleep, and ignored Willa's hoarse line of questioning (_were you crying? why? I feel so sick, why am I so sick? when's daddy coming home?_), managing to finally get her daughter to give in to whatever chemicals in her medication forced her into dreamland.

She was a wreck when she finally crawled back into bed, dragging her heavy limbs, her heart and her throat aching. Trying not to sob, she reached for her cell phone and dialled, ignoring the late hour.

"I swear to God, Mother, what could you _possibly_ need right now?"

Peyton choked on her laughter. "You always were bitchy in the middle of the night."

Brooke's voice, hazy with sleep, asked. "P-Peyton? Is that _you_?"

"Sorry it's late," she whispered, clutching a pillow.

"It's okay, honey…what's wrong?" Brooke asked, and Peyton heard the rustling of her sheets. "You or Luke or the kids? Did you finally realize you needed those socks? They were cute, they'd…" She yawned. "They'd match a lot of stuff."

"Do you remember…do you remember how you were saying you thought it might be a good idea to come home?" she asked hesitantly.

"Yeah…"

"Do you think Los Angeles would count?" she whispered, her voice cracking on the last word.

"P. Sawyer," Brooke said gently, and Peyton wondered if it was some kind of Freudian slip, Brooke's use of her maiden name, or if it was just the late hour. Maybe both. "If you're there, it's pretty damn close."

Neither girl needed to say more; they both let the silence speak for them for a couple seconds before hanging up at the same moment. Peyton tossed her phone aside, held her pillow just a little bit tighter, and listened to the silence. The CD had stopped sometime in the past hour, but the lyrics she had memorized forever ago still rang loud and clear in her ears.

_Sometimes, the last thing you want comes in first. Sometimes, the first thing you want never comes. And I know, the waiting is all you can do._

_Sometimes…_


End file.
